Only a Dream
by ncfan
Summary: -Ishida x Orihime- Anger gives you pause when you realize that, even now, she's not free of him, or that place. She argues differently.


**Characters**: Ishida, Orihime**  
Summary**: Anger gives you pause when you realize that, even now, she's not free of him, or that place. She argues differently.**  
Pairings**: Ishida x Orihime**  
Warnings/Spoilers**: Vague spoilers for Hueco Mundo arc**  
Timeline**: Post-Deicide arc**  
Author's Note**: The "him" in the summary is Ulquiorra. Prepare for Orihime's perspective when Ishida overreacts and the way she deals with it.**  
Disclaimer**: I don't own Bleach.

* * *

When she starts to thrash and twist like a caught and writhing snake in the seat beside him, that's when Ishida finally tries to shake her awake, uncomfortably aware of the eyes of the other passengers on the train on them curiously.

"Wake up, Inoue-san," he hisses, brow furrowing in worry. "Wake up."

Orihime's eyes fly open, glazed and flicking from place to place to out the dark window with dull lights flashing by in streaks, of their own accord. Her breathing's hard and her cheeks flushed, not quite aware of where she is yet. After a second she sits up in her seat and stares at him, still wide-eyed, though the fear that Ishida saw—disturbed—in her face for one moment has long since flown away.

"Nightmare?" He feels so stupid having to say it at all, but it only seems polite to ask and Orihime will probably try to behave as though it didn't happen.

Small, rueful smile on her face, Orihime nods. "Just a nightmare," she murmurs, and Ishida frowns as he stares out the window to stew over her words and her dreams. The darkness of the tunnel reaches through the window, making the brightly lit interior of the train seem dim and seedy.

.

It's a little cold in the train, Ishida notices; he always notices the cold before everyone else, has no idea why—his grandfather always told him he had a thin skin, and that might be it. There's a small chill, the way a high school classroom is when the teacher's feeling fractious and the way a funeral home is when there's a fresh body and the mortician doesn't want any of the family members to fall asleep—it was freezing in the last funeral home Ishida went to.

Orihime has said not a word since she woke up and explained she was having a nightmare, and is staring off into space—the back of the seat in front of her—with glazed eyes the way she does in class when the teacher has gotten off on a particularly dull tangent and it's simply not worth paying attention.

In the classroom, Ishida's sure Orihime's daydreaming. Here, she seems instead to just dwell on whatever it was she was dreaming about, in the absence of anything else to do.

Her glassy eyes are blank, not dreamy. She's pulled a caul down over her eyes.

Ishida wasn't aware that Orihime had nightmares.

.

_Uhh… How to go about this? _Ishida restrains himself from knitting his hands together or pushing his glasses up his nose unnecessarily—he has a great deal of nervous tics, he's noticed recently, and has been trying to cut down on the high number of at times decidedly dysfunctional mechanisms he uses to keep calm when he can't get to thread and needle.

The other passengers on the train, about five in total, seem to have forgotten that just a few minute ago there was a girl thrashing in her seat, almost like she was having a seizure and if Ishida didn't know better he'd say Orihime's forgotten it too. She's sporting that small, wistful smile she wears often now when she's not doing anything and is wrapped up in her own thoughts.

Well, now or never; once the train stops—though Ishida doesn't think it will for a while—the Orihime he saw briefly while she was still waking up will again cease to exist and she won't talk about this. Not that he thinks she'll talk about it now, but there's no fault in trying.

"Inoue-san?" He gets her attention gingerly, trying not to wince. Orihime lifts her head from the seat and looks at him quizzically, and Ishida fights down the familiar blush and stammer as he speaks. "If you don't mind, what were you having a nightmare about?"

She shrugs, keeping her voice down to a murmur—they're trying not to attract the attention of or be overheard by their fellow passengers. The quizzical smile is still affixed to her face, somewhere between diamond and glue in authenticity. "Nothing important, not anymore," Orihime whispers, face particularly gentle as she sinks back into the chair.

Ishida feels a sickening feeling in his stomach, and knows this can't be allowed to rest.

.

Orihime wants to sigh out loud when she sees Ishida's face change—for all that he has a very good poker face, there are some transitions he can't hide, and Orihime's become very skilled at reading his face.

_Oh, for Heaven's sake._

He sees someone, in this case her, having a nightmare and he sees fear and pain out of her, and maybe it's true, but in Orihime's case it's only transitory; her dreams have long since lost the power to shape her in the waking world. They are powerless, and Orihime can simply walk away; Ishida can't push back his worry and the instinct to protect long enough to see that. He's well-meaning, but nearsighted in so many ways.

She does sigh and shakes her head at the look of worry and concealed anger on his face, gently chiding but firm. "I'm fine," she insists, hoping that there's enough conviction in her voice to make the chronically skeptical Ishida believe her. "I am perfectly fine."

"Inoue-san—"

"Don't 'Inoue-san' me." Orihime frowns at him now, playfully mock-angry and Ishida seems a little offended with her seeming incapability to take the situation seriously. "I like to think that I of all people am relatively proficient with gauging the health of my mental and physical faculties."

Ishida still doesn't look convinced.

It's all Orihime can do not to roll her eyes.

.

"Oof!" Orihime would give a great deal to see the look on Ishida's face, but that would ruin the effect. She can imagine though—probably shocked and mortified and scarlet-flushed from his neck to the top of his cheekbones the way it always is when someone does something that makes him uncomfortable. She takes a moment to think that she can count the rapid, slightly panic beating of his heart quite well from this vantage point.

"What…" Orihime can imagine that this is all a little much for him and bites back a giggle.

"You're warmer than the chair," she explains. Her fingers curl tight around his shirt sleeve. "Barely."

Ishida groans audibly. "Inoue-san, get off," but doesn't try to push her away.

"Grouch." Orihime's voice is muffled. She squeezes her eyes shut, tired again.

Naturally, Ishida takes offense to this. "I am _not_ a grouch," he mutters in the sort of tone that, insanely makes Orihime want to giggle even more, though she holds it back because that would just make the situation fall apart entirely.

"You're melodramatic, then."

"I'm a teenager; it comes with the territory."

Again, it strikes Orihime as immensely amusing that Ishida will more readily admit to being melodramatic than he will to being grumpy, but she's too tired to laugh. "Whatever." She yawns and pulls closer, and can practically feel Ishida's discomfort levels rising. "Wake me when we get there," she murmurs, and refuses to say any more.

He's silent, Orihime thinks, weighing his options and deciding whether or not it would be in his better judgment to shove her off him. Instead, all he does is say, quietly in defeat, "Alright," and somewhat tentatively put a hand against her hair.

Nightmares are naught but nightmares unless the dreamer allows them to become more than what they are. Ishida didn't need Orihime to tell him that.


End file.
